Page 16 of Saint

“Drink me down, kitten. Or I’ll make you lick up anything that falls out.” He shoves forward, and I swallow hard, trying to keep it all in.

My body shakes from the intensity as he pulses forward again and again with his release.

“Yes, that’s it,” he praises, slowing his pace.

When he pulls out of my mouth, he looks down at me, messy in front of him, swiping what’s dripped on my chin.

“Lick.” He crouches down, holding his fingers up between us.

And like the twisted girl I am for this killer, I lick his fingers clean.

“Very good, Violet.” He tucks himself away.

Disappointment I shouldn’t be feeling rushes through me. “That’s it?”

He chuckles, and it echoes through the dark night. “For now.”

My eyebrows pinch, and he must sense the shift because he grabs my chin with one hand and forces me to look at him.

“Don’t worry, Violet.” He rubs his thumb over my mouth. “When I rip your virgin pussy open, it won’t be in a dark forest. I want to bathe in the sight of your blood coating my cock. I’m going to mix it with my cum and paint your skin. I’m going to ruin you. All in due time. But for now, sweet dreams. I’ll see you soon.”

Dreams?

Saint reaches a hand around my face and places a cloth over my mouth and nose. I try to squirm free, but there’s no use. My vision spots and my body relaxes as I slump to the ground.

6

Prove It

Violet

My doorframe rattles asa fist pounds against it.

“Vi, come on. It’s time to get up.” Three knocks hammer in succession as Mila continues to bang on it. “We’re going to be late, and we all know how you feel about that.”

Late?

Blinking my eyes open, my bright room slowly comes into focus. Everything is heavy—it hurts. My body throbs as I pull myself to sit.

“I don’t feel so good.” My words come out raspy, and my throat aches. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Can I get you something?” she asks, always acting like the mother of our friend group.

“No.” I cough.

My throat is like sandpaper.

“All right.” Mila taps the door once more. “Text if you need me to bring you back anything.”

“Thanks.”

I rub my neck, and it’s sore all the way around. Thankfully, Mila doesn’t ask me any more questions before leaving because it hurts to swallow, and it’s nearly unbearable to speak. I lift my arm, but my limbs are heavy and difficult to move as my fingers find my throat. I skim my fingers down the center of it.

I’m somewhere between half asleep and feeling sick as memories of last night come into focus. A fog slowly lifts like the clouds parting above the tree line. Cool winter air in my lungs and leaves crunching beneath me.

Blinking my eyes open again, the room starts to clear.

Was it all a dream?

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